


Word's on the Streets and It's on the News

by alliterate



Category: Marvel (Comics), Ms. Marvel (Comics)
Genre: F/F, First Kiss, Yuletide Treat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-17
Updated: 2014-12-17
Packaged: 2018-03-01 20:22:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2786450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alliterate/pseuds/alliterate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kamala just wanted to spend her night watching movies with Nakia. Then someone had to go and steal her identity.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Word's on the Streets and It's on the News

**Author's Note:**

  * For [escritoireazul](https://archiveofourown.org/users/escritoireazul/gifts).



> Happy Yuletide, escritoireazul!

The thing was, Kamala had totally meant for this to be a normal Friday night.

Like, not her-normal, but _normal_ -normal. She'd invited Nakia over, just like Abu suggested. They were hanging out on Kamala's bed, with Kamala's laptop, watching Buffy on Netflix. Nakia was wrapping herself around Kamala like a big, warm octopus, just like she always did whenever she got really comfy, and even Lockjaw was behaving himself and keeping hidden out in the backyard. It was nice. It was really, comfortingly normal.

Then she'd gone and ruined it by opening a new tab and accidentally glancing at her home page.

"Oh my God!"

She jolted up, trying to get a better look at the screen. Nakia pulled away and stared at her. "What?"

Kamala shook her head wordlessly. A headline right at the top of her local news widget read, _BREAKING: MS. MARVEL BURGLARIZING JERSEY CITY, REPORTS SAY_. The article itself, when Kamala hastily opened it, reported that someone looking like "the vigilante calling herself Ms. Marvel" was in the process of smashing storefronts and stealing things inside them downtown.

"That's weird," Nakia said. She sounded puzzled, which posed a strange contrast to the alarm bells clanging in Kamala's brain. "I thought she was one of the good guys. Kamala, wait, where are you going?"

Kamala wriggled out from under the tangle of blankets and Nakia's limbs and launched herself at the closet. She disappeared behind the door and started frantically tugging on her costume. "I need to go," she said. She snapped the mask into place — _ow_ — and yanked the dress down over her head. "I need to go tell them it's not me."

There was a brief, ringing pause. "Kamala,  _what_?"

"I'm Ms. Marvel. The new one. Please don't tell anyone." She lost her balance halfway through tugging on a boot and leaned against a wall so she wouldn't have to hop around. "I mean, you can tell Bruno, Bruno knows. He designed my costume. He— it needs to be a secret, Nakia."

Boots laced and double-knotted, she emerged from the closet. Nakia was staring at her.

Kamala cringed. "I'm sorry. I'll try to be fast. Please don't leave before I get back because Abu and Ammi would see you go and it would totally make them suspicious?"

Nakia shook her head, like she was clearing it. "What? No," she said, "I'm coming with you."

* * *

Lockjaw warped them to the scene of the crime — or rather, crimes, plural. Shopfronts all along the street were smashed, glass was strewn across the sidewalks, and discordant alarms filled the air. The street itself was mostly deserted, but a few stray people were still around, hanging back and aiming their phones at the spectacle down the block.

That spectacle being someone who looked _exactly_ like Kamala punching her way through another shop window and grabbing for something inside.

Nakia, seated behind Kamala with her arms wrapped tight around Kamala's waist, stopped muttering about how she _knew_ Kamala had been hiding something and sucked in air through her teeth. "That… is bad."

She was so close, her breath tickled Kamala's cheek a little. Kamala shivered. "Yep," she replied. "You sure you don't want Lockjaw to take you back to my house?"

Nakia pinched her hip. "No way you're making me miss out on all the action. Come on, tell me the plan."

Plan. Right. "I… kind of thought I'd just go over there and yell at her to stop?"

There was a brief silence. Kamala twisted around; Nakia was sporting the same look she always had when she was about to berate Kamala for not doing her homework.

"And you really think that's going to work?" Nakia asked.

"Hey." Kamala nudged her. "Who's the one with all the superheroing experience here?"

"You, apparently." Nakia wrinkled her nose. "I can't believe you told Bruno but you didn't tell me."

"I didn't tell him! He— wait, no, bad guy to yell at. Wait here, okay?"

Nakia looked like maybe she was going to protest, but she just sighed, let go of Kamala and slid off Lockjaw's back. She did it gracefully, even. Kamala hadn't thought anyone could look graceful dismounting from a giant slobbery dog, but here they were.

Kamala faced forward again and patted Lockjaw's neck. "You ready?"

He grunted and warped her down the block.

They wound up a few yards behind the impostor, who was too busy shoving some tiny, electronic, undoubtedly expensive things into a bag at her hip to notice that the real Ms. Marvel had arrived.

Kamala jumped off Lockjaw's back, planted her hands on her hips, and raised her chin in her best hero pose. "Hey!" she shouted. "What do you think you're doing?"

The impostor ignored her.

She cleared her throat and took a few steps closer. As loud as she could go without her voice getting all screechy, she yelled, "Hey, thief! Stand down! I'm the only Ms. Marvel here!"

This time, the impostor stopped and turned in Kamala's direction— except now she was staring at something over Kamala's shoulder.

Kamala glanced back and discovered what the big deal was: several cop cars had arrived and were pulling in right behind her. All the alarms going off must have masked the sound of the sirens. When she turned back to glare at not-Kamala, though, the impostor had finally noticed her. And she was glaring at Kamala.

"The jig is up!" Kamala said, then winced internally. She'd have to work some more on her hero banter. "Drop the bag and put your hands in the air!"

The impostor frowned below her mask. "What are you talking about?" she shouted back, and Kamala wrinkled her nose; the sound of a voice that was distinctly not hers coming out of what looked like her face was kind of giving her vertigo. "I'm the real Ms. Marvel! Officers, arrest this... this fake!"

Kamala laughed. "Seriously? Like anyone is going to fall for that."

Nobody moved, though, and nothing happened, even though the impostor wasn't doing anything dangerous or superpower-y. She risked a glance back at the cops. They were standing at their cars, guns out, and some of those guns were pointed at Kamala.

Something went cold and tight in Kamala's stomach. "Okay," she muttered, "guess they _are_ going to fall for that."

She squared her shoulders and raised her voice again, turning back to the impostor.

"Dude, you and me both know who the real Ms. Marvel is here. Just—"

"Yeah," the impostor said, cutting her off. "It's me!"

Kamala narrowed her eyes. "What are you, twelve? Wait, you're not actually twelve, are you? Whatever, okay, you asked for it."

She raised one fist — but just as she was concentrating on embiggening it, Nakia stepped into her line of sight, effectively destroying her concentration. Then Nakia went ahead and made it _worse_ by positioning herself between Kamala and fake-Kamala.

"Miss," one cop behind Kamala said loudly, "I'm going to need you to leave the area." Nakia ignored him. Instead, she moved in until she was right in front of the bad guy.

The cold feeling in Kamala's stomach got even worse. "Nakia!" she shouted. "Come back here!"

But Nakia ignored Kamala, too. "Please stop this," she was saying, in her best calm and reasonable tone. Kamala recognized it as the one she used for presentations in school. "The consequences will be a lot less severe if you stop now, before anyone gets hurt."

"Ugh, get out of my way," the impostor replied. She grabbed Nakia's shoulder, probably to shove her aside, and Kamala was about to yell again — but Nakia moved.

She trapped the impostor's hand, pulled it across her body, and used the momentum and her other hand to push the impostor to the ground. Then she dropped to her knees and trapped the impostor's wrists behind her back with both hands.

It was all over in about five seconds, and Kamala must not have been the only one startled, because suddenly there was no more fake-Kamala and instead Nakia was pinning a skinny blonde girl to the ground. "Crap!" the blonde girl shouted, and the cops moved in.

Relieved of her duty as villain-restrainer, Nakia emerged a few moments later from the pack of cops and made her way back to Kamala's side.

Kamala stared at her. "Nakia, holy crap!" She grabbed Nakia's arm. "That was so cool! I mean, never do that again, _please_ , but it was really, really cool. Where did you learn that move?"

Nakia smiled down at her a little. "Women's self-defense classes on weekends. My dad's been making me take them. And we should probably get out of here before one of those cops decides to question you."

Kamala blinked. "Right!" She looked to Lockjaw, who'd ambled over to meet them. He snorted. Kamala wrapped her free arm around his neck, and away they went.

* * *

They rematerialized just a few blocks away. Kamala could still hear all the alarms and sirens in the distance, but this street was deserted, a residential area lit only by the occasional street lamp. The rush Kamala had been feeling dissipated without all the surrounding chaos to sustain it, and the weight of everything that had just happened settled on her.

She turned to find Nakia staring at her, one eyebrow arched, like nothing weird had happened and Kamala was just being a dork in class or something. The absurdity of the whole situation — Kamala in her stretchy superhero costume, Nakia in her regular Friday night clothes acting like everything was normal — made her laugh, and she threw herself at Nakia, who caught her, just like she always did.

Kamala laughed again into Nakia's shoulder and Nakia's arms squeezed her waist. She pulled back a little to catch her breath and she met Nakia's eyes, she saw how Nakia was looking at her, and she had a split second to think, _Oh_ , before Nakia leaned in and kissed her.

It was soft, and dry, and really, really fast, and Nakia pulled away before Kamala had a chance to react. She darted a quick look to each side, then turned back to Kamala. "Sorry," she said quickly, "I should have asked. I just…"

She trailed off, looking lost. Kamala tried to think fast and catalogue what she was feeling. She hadn't heard any symphonies or seen any fireworks, or felt like she was on another planet or something weird — but she did feel a little warm and giddy. Like the adrenaline rush she always got from beating a bad guy, but softer, somehow.

It had felt nice, she thought. It was _nice_. She wanted to kiss Nakia back. So she did.

Nakia smiled against her lips, and Kamala's heart went all weird and fluttery. When Kamala stepped away again, Nakia exhaled, laughing a little. "I've been wanting to do that _forever_ ," Nakia said, and she squeezed Kamala's fingers when Kamala reached out to hold her hand.

It wasn't a scary thought, Kamala found, that Nakia had been wanting to kiss her. It was a good thought. It made her feel warm again. Kamala smiled. She tugged Nakia's hand, and they started walking in the general direction of home.

They were silent for a while, comfortably so. Eventually, Kamala said, "Why the heck would someone pretend to be me?"

Nakia made a snorting sound, the kind of undignified sound she only ever made when someone startled her into laughing. Kamala grinned to herself. "Well," Nakia said, "you _are_ a superhero. Apparently."

"Sure, but why _me_? And why do it just to steal a bunch of stuff?"

Nakia shrugged. They were walking close enough together that the movement brushed Kamala's own shoulder. "Didn't you see that girl she changed back into? She was probably some bored rich kid. And you _have_ done a bunch of property damage to the city—"

"Hey, it's hard to save people without running into stuff!"

"—so maybe she was hoping she could do a smash-and-grab and, I don't know, nobody would notice the grab," Nakia finished, ignoring Kamala. "Or something."

Kamala let this sink in. "Well, if so, that wasn't a very good plan."

"Nope," Nakia agreed. She squeezed Kamala's hand, and Kamala squeezed back. "Also," Nakia continued after a moment, "I don't know why we're walking. You live kinda far away, and it's cold, and it turns out that you have a teleporting dog."

Kamala laughed and stopped walking. "Right," she said, and finally let go of Nakia's hand.

They climbed onto Lockjaw's back. Nakia wrapped her arms tight around Kamala's waist. "All right, Lockjaw," Kamala said. She smiled down at him and braced her hands on his shoulders. "Beam us up."


End file.
